Best Commanders Poems
Waterloo Clerihew 23-Skidoo
Napoleon Bonaparte
1769 Corsica is where he got his start
One of the greatest commanders in history
His manner of death a 200-year-old mystery
Napoleon played it close to the vest
With his armies he was always the best
But 'twas nothing he could do
When he met his Waterloo
Lived his last few years under house arrest
Napoleon drank the water and headed for the loo
He did nothing different than you or I could ever do
Be kind to your skin and protect your bone-a-parts
Remember that's where good hygiene starts!
Categories:
commanders, conflict, french, history, humorous,
Form:
Clerihew
I sat beneath a Veteran-oak,
In awe of His strength—
Here was a solid spirit!
Sympathy you get from Willow,
But stiff upper-lip from old soldiers,
With forged bark —
His limbs flexed, cut, rippled against the wind…
No chinks in this warrior-wood…
“Divide and Conquer!”
Then I thought of my Father—
A cook at the end of the war—The Big One!
You know the One I mean, as if there are small ones—
When the commanders were through eating
He was instructed to toss the leftovers
From the belch of plates—
Trashcans were in the alley,
The steel that seems intrinsic to battles
In one form or another—
The hungry German children
Would sneak pass the guards
And line-up;
My father would sneak pass his superiors
And his honor
To dispense carefully wrapped scraps…
Well, soon the line was out into the street
As my father was compelled to seek food
From wherever he could steal, beg or barter
To procure—This brought attention—the cat-out-of-the-bag,
And all hell down on my father,
As the captain screamed: Gus, these are the enemy (the children in the alley),
What in God’s Name are you doing?
He was forced to stop—no Court Marshal though…
I looked up again at the old oak,
Through the snarled branches
Deep into the staunch soldier,
Where I spied a nest
In a small, compact fork—
Having a canopy of extra leaves
For shade and shelter from the wind—
I smiled—hum…
His bark reddened, but like my father, no apology from this weathered soldier…
Categories:
commanders, allegory, allusion, father, history,
Form:
Free verse
I've been watching and waiting for awhile..
I lurk with a smirk, a Crocodile.
In a swamp that's swollen with
uncontrollable,
unconsoloble,
&undereducated
people.
They praise a steeple of low standards
controlled by foes but we call them commanders
being a bystandard is the new felon
A once bright but now dim lantern
and no ones been reminding us to refuel
so we feed off each other..
Musical chairs with fools.
2/2/14
-R.R.
B.Maxine
Categories:
commanders, absence, america, confusion, crazy,
Form:
Rhyme
There are eminent personages among the enlisted grades,
Who deserve the utmost in respect and well-earned accolades.
These are the dedicated Sergeants of whom I speak,
Who guide the strong and encourage the weak!
Steadfast leaders whom commanders rely upon,
When they need to get the tough jobs done.
Never-bending sturdy oaks in the face of adversity,
Possessing traits held by few - loyalty and integrity!
Sergeants descend from a long and distinguished tradition,
Following those who faithfully served with great distinction.
Proudly wearing chevrons bestowed upon a privileged few,
And setting high standards for generations that will ensue!
From time immemorial through the present generation,
Brave men and women were led by Sergeants with dedication.
Dreadful loss of life and limb was, alas, sustained,
To ensure that our precious liberties were maintained!
I'm a proud member of this elite fraternity and brotherhood,
Ever marching arm in arm for the nation's common good.
Molding young patriots to defend our glorious heritage.
All serving this great nation with indomitable courage!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Categories:
commanders, dedication
Form:
Rhyme
Methinks pilots are such superior mortals
For their ability to make metals fly like fowls,
And soldiers have such an impressive mettle
That makes you salute their daring prowls.
Surgeons are such a precise and thoroughly seasoned breed
That will dumbfound with details of capillaries and veins,
And commanders-in-chief such colossal powers wantonly wield
Till they addict themselves to honor and extend their reigns.
A charismatic preacher will yodel tunes and heal the lame
And win a hefty standing among their peers in a moment;
The teacher is the final light and bearer of the last opinion
And their learned views sail without a single opponent.
But the poet is the chariot of thought that inspires them all.
He’s the silent roar of the Boeing with the pilot in,
He’s the muffled ricocheting of the soldier’s Kalashnikov;
The unspoken overtones of the preacher’s condemnation of sin,
The subtlest incision of the surgeon’s authorized blade
And the president’s solemn inspection of the honor parade.
Categories:
commanders, art,
Form:
Verse
Birds in midheaven flying all around
Soaring high then gliding down
Gazing with hunger upon the town
Instinctively knowing up from down
Observing unbridled spiritual breakdown
White horse and rider with august kingly crown,
Bright white, bloodstained flowing gown
To all birds an invitation did righteously resound
A great feast of kings and commanders showdown
A feast of strong and great after the takedown.
Birds in midheaven flying all around
Soaring high then gliding down
Pleasing the rider of supreme renown
Gazing with hunger upon each town
Great Evening Meal's final countdown
Categories:
commanders, bible, bird, christian, judgement,
Form:
Monorhyme
As I think back to yesterday,
my vivid recall of your days of play.
I can still see you laughing as you ride your bike,
and all those expressions for the things you liked.
Now you are a man, and you stand so proud,
as you salute your commanders among the crowd.
Soon you will leave me for a far a way land,
filled with violence, and miles of sand.
Your dream has always been, to serve, and protect,
my son so proud of his country, with no regrets.
I pray for your safety, while wiping my tears,
your only nineteen, I can't hide my fears.
So tomorrow you will leave me, and your dreams fulfilled,
but you will always be my baby, and my life you thrilled.
Categories:
commanders, son, war,
Form:
Narrative
Dedicated to Lt. Gen. George S. Patton, Jr. (November 11, 1885 – December 21, 1945)
I'd fought a hundred battles
through the ages past and new
I'd been a lowly foot soldier
But at times commanded too.
I was a witness of Arab mothers
Fleeing cities under-siege ;
A new age liberator,
The commander of the third.
I had served with Ceasar's legion;
The Carthaginians; and the Greeks.
When Arthur was in his Kingship,
I was a captain of the knights
A horseman tough and skillful
Of medieval cavalier;
But ages had transformed me
to dash with iron wheels
The only time I meet MacArthur
Was in the salient of St. Mehiel
We both stood erect, calm, and unmindful
To the guns and bursting shell.
Oh well take a look at Monty
Too slow for his advance
He didn't expect me to take Palermo
or Mesina to my plan
I was reproved of my harshness,
They knew not that I was somber too
I cared not of my language
As long as my point would get through
I'd mixed my words with profanities
That my orders surely stick
My men would always remember every word
While they're in the battle field
Oh my, I hate those yellow bastards
They have no place on this earth
I sent them to the frontlines
That no more they would breed
Those swivel chair commanders
Discounted my two days time
But brave soldier deserved to be rescued
Before his dog tag stops to chime.
So my men made it to Dunkirk
To the delight of McAuliffe
"Surrender!" yelled the Nazis
but "nutz" was all he said.
I was cut off of supplies and fuel
For Market Garden's sake
But after pissing the flowing River
I held the Fuhrer's nest
So soon another war was ended
Mine enemies had lost
The iron carver claimed the glory
And relieved me from my post.
Categories:
commanders, memorial day, patriotic, soldier,
Form:
Sonnet
It’s Memorial Day
I thumb through my high school yearbook,
Soiled, unpadded from another day.
My children don’t know of our mindset then,
The second war all wars to end.
Daily goodbyes to the boys we loved,
The face of the first one to lose his life to war,
In my yearbook.
Pages and pages of lists to follow,
Names of those then serving,
The movie news theater down town,
Hiding no graphic battle scenes, and
Finally showing those terrible discoveries
Of the Holocaust, a mad man’s horror show creation,
Once we were at a dance,
Three months later you were dead,
Any boy that held a teen girl,
Insecure, frightened, excited, clutched,
He must leave all he knew,
And fight for you.
Pictures from my yearbook,
Nearly all of you are gone by now,
Heroes, memories, when the newspapers screamed
“Anzio – The Bulge, The Bombs, Normandy The thousands!”
And then The Bomb.
Still not the end, for
Many yearbooks have followed;
Korea, Vietnam, El Salvador, Bosnia,
The Gulf, Iraq, Afghanistan;
It’s as if my tattered yearbook meant naught,
We thank you again and again.
We love you, our boys and girls,
And yes, you, too, old commanders and generals,
Who loved and love us with your last full measure.
So when we hear a roar at night,
It is only thunder because of you.
We pray your faces will never be
In a yearbook such mine –
That your captions will always be;
“Most Likely To Succeed,”
Thanks to those who have gone before,
Freedom will always be.
Categories:
commanders, memorial day, patriotic,
Form:
Free verse
(Maverick Free Verse about a true life Maverick)
hey, Mr. Editor, you got it wrong
labeling Allen West as Congress’s “Most Vulnerable”
misnomer
insult to his character
ambush of American troops planned
Colonel West fired shots near an Iraqi prisoner’s head
information obtained, ambush prevented
no blood shed, not even the prisoner’s
thankless military bureaucracy
forced him to retire
Colonel West proclaimed,
“The battlefield’s no place for political correctness”
“Don’t blow sunshine up my butt,”
Maverick West warned, standing his ground
refused to march
to a “Machiavellian Kumbaya”
had he been a West Point grad
West would have been promoted
adorned with medals
accolades for soldiers saved
soldier’s mother spoke out; see it her way
“I hope my son’s commanders protect him as Allen did”
behind a shield of political ties
Allen never hides
in a Democratic district this Tea Partier rose
disenfranchised Americans cheered
do you think West deserves
beatings from the press
watch your “Most Vulnerable”
rise to prominence
if this hero hasn’t earned his seat in Congress
Mr. Editor, tell me who has
* Allen West represents the Tampa area of Florida in the U.S. Congress.
In 2003, when West was a battalion commander in Taji, Iraq, he fired his weapon
near the head of a prisoner to frighten the detainee into divulging information about
a planned ambush. The detainee started providing information and the ambush of
American soldiers was prevented. West was removed from command and the Army
considered a court martial. West argued he acted to save his troops, was fined
$5,000, but was allowed to retire with full honors and benefits.
Categories:
commanders, people, warpolitical,
Form:
Free verse
Americans, Algerians, Australian aborigines,
Corrupt leaders of the world involved in illegal activities.
Bloodthirsty bullies brazenly bombing bystanders,
Militaries full of corrupt army commanders.
Charities for children, carers in communities,
Third world countries deprived of equal opportunities.
Doctors, dentists, drugs, disability and depression,
An angry generation full of negative aggression.
Evil egotistic eejits entering elections,
Profiteering politicians with the right connections.
Foul mouthed fools fighting over fossil fuels,
Crooked government clowns creating their own rules.
Greedy gangs gambling, goons glamorising globalisation,
A sad and unfair planet, full of frustration.
History of horrific holocausts, hate crimes, hard times,
Skull and bones, secret societies, illuminati hand signs.
Isolation, intimidation, immigration, inaccurate information,
Hiroshima and Nagasaki still suffer from radiation.
Judge and jury, jam-packed jail cells,
Relentless rebels not doing it for the medals.
Kalashnikov culture, killers keep killing,
The reality of climate change is extremely chilling.
Lame loud mouthed liars living in luxury,
Corrupt politicians should be in custody.
Microchips, machine guns, military madness in the Middle East,
The rich get richer while homelessness continues to increase.
NASA, NATO, new world order, negative nonsense,
Celebrating Columbus Day, do they have any conscience?
Outrageous organisations occupying oil fields,
Double dealing leaders involved in shady deals.
Pitiful pessimists publishing pointless propaganda,
While aids and malaria increases in Uganda.
Quality over quantity or quantity over quality,
An overused phrase that’s used too commonly.
Radicals rallying, ready for revolution,
Air, water, soil and radioactive pollution.
Sick, sadistic sinners selfishly selling slaves,
Fredrick Douglass must be turning in his grave.
Terrible terrorists taking over territories,
Religious beliefs still creating enemies.
Unconscious unkind useless United Nations,
CNN plus Fox News equals bias news stations.
Various victims viciously victimised,
Deadly missiles falling from the skies.
Wars, weapons, whistles blowers on the World Wide Web,
While others sell their souls just to become a celeb.
Categories:
commanders, planet, political, pollution, weather,
Form:
Rhyme
I can't help but wonder, what am I supposed to wonder about?
Society has put certain rules into play, that I can seem to wrap my mind around.
To think a certain way, to speak a certain way.
And to do this with no question about why we are being controlled every single day.
So, what does the world want me to do now?
How am I supposed to wonder, if I don't know how?
When does the mind control end?
When will the people of this world get too unhinged?
Everyone needs help, but they are unaware that their thoughts are not individual.
Because society makes the mind control seem normal.
All people think the same. Fighting back is useless.
For how are we supposed to fight back if we are clueless?
Thus, the people need to know,
To beat evil, we need to grow.
Unite our minds, together we flourish.
To take down our commanders, means our minds will perish.
This is why the world has to resort to violence...
To bring our minds back to silence.
Categories:
commanders, silence, society, together,
Form:
Rhyme
Citizen, consider choices nurtured,
at hand, leadership of the free world.
In a time of tumultuous world upheaval,
wars, rebellions, terrorists are in sway.
Torture, chemical warfare, ethnic genocide,
stagnant words on the mind and tongue.
Nuclear proliferation grows in hateful hands,
radical religious extremist rage as wild fire.
Who will stand elected Commander in Chief,
leader of the most powerful nation on earth?
Petitioners align in quest of leadership,
pouring words from lips in misty resolution.
Among the candidates in nations offer,
which placed boot to ground, hand to steel?
Where are the battle tested in choice,
those of iron will, reservoirs of experience?
Where are the proven men and women,
honored commanders of our military ranks?
Where in offer those held in earnest respect
by rank and file of our herald hero’s?
Spurn paper warriors posturing in grand example,
strutting blind boldness in pompous grandeur.
Strangled strategies in scales of life
with no understanding of burns and scars.
This hour the world needs strength of character,
yet petitioners banter in personal insult, innuendo.
Brash boldness soils stature in phantom proposals,
promises spread as butter on hot bread.
What became the valued military leadership,
untested desk chair candidates seek reign.
This is a time for proven leadership, strength,
not posturing politicians and paper warriors.
Robert Gene Stoner Jr ©
3/12/16
Categories:
commanders, poetry, political,
Form:
Verse
Surrounded by mud
our feet make love to the surface
the bullets kiss us, the bayonets hug
our intestines and the blankets
cuddle with our cold, decaying corpses
we write to our wives, letters that will never be delivered
the wet ground gives our feet an unpleasant present
in the form of gangrene, the rats
make themselves at home feasting upon the rotten
flesh of fallen comrades while the maggots make use
of newly formed skulks and aged decaying bone
then comes the symphony of artillery
the roar of gunfire, the marching of tanks
the mighty foot soldiers, and
the majestic golden smoke of mustard gas
the trenches become our unwanted love
and unholiest of homes, "the tears do not shed
the blood does not spill, and the soldier does not die"
is the common the battle cry sung upon us
constantly by our commanders but on the contrary
these bitter notes of blind fate forever sing to us
the illusion of life and the irony of war.....
Categories:
commanders, dark, death, fear, sad,
Form:
Free verse
Dedicated to the Officers and crew of
USS Columbia (SSN 771)
Goodbye Sun
We are welcomed by men in
immaculate whites
Through a hatch
we descend a steep ladder
into "The Last Slider"
From a narrow corridor we enter
into the brain and nerves
of this vessel-
To my untrained eye the confusion
of cables overhead is bewildering
This black ship of stealth
tracks the world outside,
silently invisible itself
Rows of monitors, sonar devices
high powered periscopes
all with a myriad of buttons to push-
A marvel of technology -
yet men are the heart and soul
of this great ship
They are Submariners
They say goodbye to the sun
for months on end
Week after harrowing week they spend
day after day on grinding drills
where the only thrill is their daily meals
Systematic, methodical
They are human- in a ship of war
but a ship that exists for freedom
The Officers guide us through each section
The ship at rest has released them
from an endless commitment but
with a practiced eye
they are still attuned to every detail
Commanders almost prescient
so in step with every procedure
they can sense malfunction in their sleep
I notice the commitment to excellence
I note the pride behind the
preparations for our inspection
Blue curtains with the ships insignia
are drawn on bunk beds
Shiny copper engine parts, clean bright paint
reflects the values of those who
keep their vessel, ship-shape
Now I stand in the nose where the
weapons rest
The metal tubes look benign
for all the power they contain
Ironically in rows, directly above,
the crew's bunks are located-
in tiers of three -even sleep
is regimented
Photos of family are the only
human touch in
this dark, black, whale
of a vessel
The sense of duty for each individual
seems overwhelming
There is a spirit of complete trust
between them
This is a world for honorable men
"Victory is Silence"
I try to imagine daily living
the self-containment
the steely discipline
the choosing to go forward in the face of
uncertainty
Precision and man - morphing
The pact between Submariners is
absolute.
They move as one.
BRIAN'S CHOICE K,any form,any theme
Contest Judged: 5/19/2020 12:08:00 AM
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
3rd Place
Categories:
commanders, adventure, america, freedom, patriotic,
Form:
Free verse